


Learning Lessons of Humility

by bpdofficial



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Near Death Experiences, Nonbinary Character, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prophetic Dreams, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-02-22 23:50:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13177851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bpdofficial/pseuds/bpdofficial
Summary: Nathan doesn't know who this person is, but they need to get out of his dreams. And soon.Starts between seasons 2 and 3, then moves on into Doomstar and beyond that.





	1. Prophetic

It was far too early to be trudging through three inches of snow, Ezra thought to himself. Gloved hands clutched at the small ticket, trying to keep a grip in the cold winter wind. The giant dragon-shaped loomed over him, casting an impossibly large shadow against the snow and funnelling chimney smoke into the atmosphere. If anything, it would at least be warm in there.

The raffle had seemed like a good idea at the time. Win a trip into the home of the world's most famous metal band? Why not? But when he had opened the envelope and found the winning ticket inside, pure nervousness bloomed inside his stomach. Sure, they had a... weird prescence in the public eye, and a couple of the interviews and articles Ezra had read before spoke of various mishaps they were the cause of and was prepared for the worst, but what if that wasn't really what they were like? What if it was worse? No one else had ever been inside the massive fortress before. Or if they had, they weren't allowed to speak of it. 

I guess I'll just have to find out myself, Ezra thought, brow furrowed as he finally reached the giant doors. Rapping the huge, ornate gargoyle knocker a few times, he hesitated and stepped away from the door a little, waiting for it to open.

After a few minutes of nothing, he raised his hand to try again, only for the huge wooden doors to creak open a tad. A sharply-dressed man in a suit stepped out briefly, holding a clipboard with several sheets on it. "Hello," He said simply, adjusting his glasses to peer through the snow. "I am Charles Ofdensen, manager of the band Dethklok. I assume you would be... Ezra?"

"Uh, yes-" He started, but before he could continue, the clipboard was placed into his hands with a pen on top of it. 

"Before we continue with the tour, I'm going to need you to sign these waivers for possible injury or death, as well as a binding form preventing any information being released to the media." He adjusted his glasses once more as the young adult read through the waivers, eyebrows scrunched slightly in concentration. "No photography or videotaping the band, please."

"Um...okay," Ezra muttered, and scrawled out his signature on each line specified, hearing loud, indecipherable yelling coming from inside. That was already sort of a bad sign, although Charles wasn't visibly reacting to the noise, and merely took the clipboard once everything was signed and stepped aside to let him in.

"As much as I'd like to oversee this tour, I'm sure the boys can handle it without causing you...bodily harm," Charles said, slowing down as they entered the main room. Three of the five members of the band were seated comfortably on the large couch, urging on the smaller man trying to force what looked like a bratwurst into the bassist's mouth. They were currently sprawled on the floor and locked in a weird fight over it, flailing around and yelling things that their guest could not possibly translate into proper english. 

"Just fuckin' eat it, dude!" Pickles yelled, trying his damnedest to get it into the bassist's mouth. "You aren't gay for eating!"

"I don't want it!" Finally, after what seemed like minutes of struggling, the bassist shoved the smaller man off of him and scrambled up, moving surprisingly fast for someone his size. "Leave me the fuck alone already-"

Charles cleared his throat loudly, catching the attention of all five of them. The instant they looked over their attention was drawn to Ezra, who visibly stiffened. "Your guest for the day has arrived, like I told you." Charles stated, and glanced at his watch briefly. "Everything has been accounted for, so, he should be ready for-"

"Yeah, yeah, tour of Mordhaus or whatever," The largest of the five waved his hand dismissively. "Just like... can't you do it?"

"The whole purpose of the raffle was the winner getting to spend some amount of time with you, besides generating revenue. We already went through this several times, Nathan. I have a meeting to go to for the label."

"Ugh," Nathan grunted and sunk into the cushions of the couch. "I guess."

"Oh, ams this the new friends we ams making?" The man next to him asked, his face lighting up considerably. 

"I woulds not say 'friends', Toki," The blonde next to him muttered, strumming on the guitar in his lap relatively fast.

"Listen, boys," Charles started, and paused to make sure he had their attention. "Nathan, Pickles, please just make sure the others behave and try to make the tour mean something, alright?"

Pickles- the one Ezra assumed was dusting himself off and tossing the uneaten bratwurst to god knows where- stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave Ezra a once over. Charles took this opportunity and bid them farewell, walking off and leaving them alone.

"So," Pickles started, searching for his words. "Uh, you're name's Ezra, right?"

"Yeah," He answered a bit hesitantly, earning an inquisitive look from Toki and the blonde next to him. Nathan didn't seem interested, flipping through channels on the large TV they had strung up on two hooks attached to the ceiling. "I... do like your music, but I didn't think I'd actually win, so... I'm... kind of-"

"Oh, ams you have... anks... amx..." Toki struggled for a moment, and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Anksieties." 

"Oh, thanks you Skwisgaar-" Toki looked back at Ezra. "Anksieties. I have that too sometimes, ands-"

"No one cares, Toki." The bassist spoke up, crossing his arms and scowling slightly. "Can we just get this stupid tour over with?"

Ezra frowned slightly, but said nothing, shedding his coat and rolling up his sleeves, now that he was in the large, warm house. Nathan eventually sniffed in distaste and stood up, glancing him up and down for a moment. "Well," He muttered, and gestured halfway to the room they were in. "This is the living room or whatever..."

"C'mon, we should at least try," Pickles said to him, giving his arm a slight shove. "But he's right, this is the living room where we... uh... live."  
"Yeah," Ezra said uneasily. "I could have gathered that from 'living room'."

"Well, good, then I don't have to repeat it." Nathan started walking past, towering over them and making him take a step back. "Come on. And don't wander off or you might die."  
Ezra nodded slightly and trailed behind him, Pickles following behind and Toki getting up so he could go too. The other two didn't seem to care enough and stayed there, leaving the four of them to head down the massive hallway. Many, many rooms were shown to Ezra, with the bare minimum of comments given, Nathan clearly tired of interacting with someone from outside for longer than an hour. Pickles seemed a little more enthusiastic about it, but barely, and Toki was talking more than either of them combined. It was almost overly friendly, if Ezra weren't still steeping in anxiety.

"And I guess the last place is the kitchen," Nathan said, motioning to the surprisingly clean dining area. "There. Tour over."

"Uh, thanks." Ezra said quietly, and looked at his phone, avoiding his gaze. "I... guess I should go, or something..."

"Buts you just gots here!" Toki suddenly grabbed his free hand. "Oh, please don't go just yets, you can plays a game or something-"

"I, uh," He carefully removed his hand from Toki's grip, stumbling slightly. "Look, I already feel bad for bothering you so far, so I should really just leave-"

"Nah, it's fine." Pickles shook his head while Nathan rooted through the fridge. "Nathan's jus' bad with fans. Most of 'em are really fucking annoying. But you're actually quiet, so... He's not really as pissy as he could have been."

"If you say so..." Ezra looked down at their feet, and sat down at the table when no one said anything further, feeling tired from walking around the massive fortress. Toki had calmed down very quickly and sat down as well, feeling fine with sitting next to someone he'd just met. After a long bout of silence, Nathan cleared his throat and sat a slightly crumpled bottle of water on the table in front of their guest. 

"I guess it would be... annoying if you got hurt or whatever..." He grunted, and crossed his arms. "Charles would be up my ass about it."

"Thanks." Hesitantly, Ezra dug into his bag and fished out a small pill bottle, taking one of the small pills quickly and washing it down with half the water bottle in one go. Placing it back in the bag and zipping it up quickly, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket and sighed shakily. Seeming unsatisfied with the response, Nathan stood still and watched him take whatever medication he'd just swallowed, squinting his eyes slightly.

"What ams that pill what yous just took?" Toki asked, having failed to read the label with how fast he put it away. Ezra hesitated again, and shrugged slightly. 

"Xanax... for the anxiety..." He explained quietly. "I'll be fine. It'll kick in within an hour."

"Oh, I know that one." Pickles piped up, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Had some specific experiences with that one- Er, well, guess it's better not t' talk about that..."

"Yeah, um... I have a personality disorder that I take it for... I take antidepressants too." Shifting in his seat, he seemed to curl inward on himself slightly under Nathan's gaze burning into his back. "It's so I can function better."

"Function?" Nathan finally spoke. "Function for what?"

"Well.. you know..." Ezra gesutred vaguely. "Life?"

"Oh." He grunted slightly in thought. "Forgot people outside have regular lives."

"I guess regular is a word for it." 

"Well, we can sit in here for the rest of the day, or maybe we could like, do somethin'?" Pickles offered halfheartedly. "I mean, why not give 'em something to remember? To cope with his normal life or whatever." 

"Cope? I-"

"Sure, I guess." Nathan turned toward the door and started walking. "You can sit in on ONE recording session. That's it."

"That's generous," Ezra muttered under his breath, standing up. Toki gave a short snicker but stopped before Nathan could piece together the whispered comment, and the three filed after Nathan to get to work.

\----

"Okay, try that take again, Toki, your hands keep slipping." Nathan grumbled into the mic, watching Toki wipe his hands on his pants and claim they were just sweaty. "Seriously. Just wanna get this track done."

"You ams aware he is not goings to gets it right this time, you shoulds just let ME records the solo, and-"

"No! I can does it!" Toki argued, and adjusted his guitar. "I'm doings it this time!"

"Okay, then shut up and play already." Nathan pressed the large record button on the dashboard, waving at Toki slightly to get him to start.

Ezra had been sitting on the couch uncomfortably for the past hour, squeezed between Skwisgaar and Pickles and trying to avoid any sort of eye contact in the room. Their engineer had been talking too, but it was hard to hear what he was saying over everyone else's arguments and Nathan's loud tone. Pickles kept trying to lighten the mood by muttering quiet comments to him, but he barely listened, slumped down into the surprisingly comfortable couch and tryng not to fall asleep. 

Toki attempted the riff once again, and this time he apparently got it right, because Nathan practically slammed the record button back off and hit save, grunting slightly. "Finally," He muttered, having startled Ezra and Skwisgaar, who had both dozed off. "The songs done. I'm fucking starving."

"Ooh, we should tell the kitchen to make that bacon shit they made last time 'cause that was pretty good-"

"No, I want ribs! A whole rack of ribs!" Murderface interjected, slamming his hands on the table and startling Ezra further. "You guys ALWAYS pick what we eat and its MY turn-"

"Guys," Nathan interrupted, before a full-blown argument broke out. "Just get whatever food you each want. And, uh... I guess feed..." Nathan peered at Ezra searchingly.

"Ezra."

"Yeah, uh.. Ezra." He shrugged slightly and wandered back toward the kitchen, but paused when no one else moved. "What?"

"Why're you leavin' him with us?" Pickles asked, peering down the neck of the bottle in his hand. "Charles said you have to be included or it doesn't count."

"He's also saids that if you don'ts, thens he gets to stays a whole week until you acts like whats a real douchebag does and bes nice." Skwisgaar wrinkled his nose slightly. "Ams some kinds of... lessons or something."

"Eugh." Nathan ground his teeth slightly for a second, then huffed. "I don't care how long he's here cause he's quiet, but I have better things to do than babysit."

"I'm still here," Ezra said, and frowned at him, feeling much braver now that he'd been surrounded by the five of them for the past 4 hours. "I'm 23, so it's not really 'babysitting', thanks."

"Whatever." He grunted out, and headed out the door. "Just keep it down."

He shut the door relatively hard, the doorframe rattling behind him. Feeling slightly sour, Ezra slumped into the couch cushions once more, crossing his arms over his chest.  
"Well..." Pickles trailed off briefly, and shifted in his seat. "What do you wanna eat?"

"I'm not really hungry." Ezra mumbled, and checked their phone again. "Am I really supposed to stay here longer?"

"Didn't you look over the stuff you signed?" 

"Uhhh... not fully..." He sat up, and scratched the back of his head. "Shit."

"You ams stucks here, then." Skwisgaar got up and brushed his pants off, grabbing his guitar from the table. "They probabsly haves a room sets up for you."

"Oh."

"Yeah, so, if you just wanna go lay down or something, that's fine too," Pickles offered, and pointed at one of the servants cleaning up after them. "Take 'em to whatever room Charles had set up. 'N get 'em whatever he needs."

"Yes, my lord." The servant bowed slightly and opened the door, holding it open until Ezra tenatively stood up and followed. 

The walk down the long hallways seemed to stretch on forever, until they came to a particularly dark section, lit by candles. The servant- Klokateers, he remembered hearing- unlocked a door near the end and stepped aside. A bed, neatly made with an extra blanket sitting on it, was pushed into one corner. A dresser sat next to it with a lamp, and there was a small door on the opposite side that he assumed was a bathroom. A small loveseat was next to the door, and had his coat on it, folded. When had he forgotten it?

"If you would like anything from your home, write a list and we will retrieve it for you." the klokateer bowed his head once and went on his way, leaving him alone.

"Uhhh..." He hesitated, then sat down on the bed after closing the door. It was surprisingly soft, and the blanket even smelled clean, compared to the mix of smells from the rest of the place. There was no window, but the lamp illuminated the room just fine, giving everything kind of a warm glow. Feeling tired once more, he stripped off his jacket and shoes, setting them on the couch next to his coat and laid down on the bed, falling asleep within minutes.

\----

When he woke, it was silent in the fortress. Groggy, he fumbled around in the bed until he found his phone, checking the time. It was 5:45 in the morning. Well, I guess they do sleep.

Hesitantly, he searched around in his bag and fished out a pen and a scrap of paper- the back of a gas station reciept- and wrote out what he needed. Toiletries, clothes, stuff like that. Leaving it on the bedside table, he shrugged on his jacket and pulled his socks on, walking up to the door. Is it even okay if I walk around on my own?

Deciding it was probably fine if he just went to the kitchen and brought something back, he stepped out into the dark hall and quietly made his way back down the hallway. It only took a few minutes to get back to the kitchen, and as he entered the doorway, the light of the fridge being open stopped him in his tracks.

"Ugh," Nathan mumbled to himself, and tossed the now-empty box of Hot Pockets toward the trashcan, ignoring when it just landed on the floor in front of it. Shoving the last half of his third one into his mouth, he washed it down with what looked like straight whiskey and tossed the empty bottle into the trash. "Stupid... tour..."

Exhaling slightly, he continued into the room, not stopping when Nathan looked up and stared at him. Without a word, he rooted in the fridge briefly and took a bottle of water, then took what looked like a couple of leftover pizza slices and put them in the microwave, leaning on the counter and drinking some of the water. Though he could feel the singer's eyes burning into the spot between his shoulders, Ezra stood there silently the entire minute and a half it took to warm up the pizza, then walked out at what was hopefully a normal speed, gripping the bottle of water tightly. 

Nathan watched Ezra leave and huffed to himself slightly, and wrinkled his nose. "Ugh."

\-----

The next two days passed without incident, and Ezra mostly kept to his room when he recieved his stuff, just milling around on his laptop and trying to stay out of the band's way. Though Toki kept coming around to see if he would come out with them, he declined, glad that he at least took the no the first time. 

However, the next visitor was far more persisent. Pickles had, apparently, only just learned where the room was located, and no matter how many times Ezra said no, he kept asking if they would come drink, or sit in on a recording again, anything.

"Fine," Ezra said, exasperated, and shut his laptop, setting it aside. "Fine. I'll come have a drink. One drink." 

"I mean, you can try to keep it as just one," Pickles joked, and shrugged. "But I won't make you-"

"Let's just go," He said quietly, and tucked his phone into his back pocket. 

Pickles led him through the massive halls once more, and into the living room, where Nathan seemed to have already had several drinks and eyed them as they entered the room. Skwisgaar was in the corner, absorbed in his practice but still sipping at his own drink every few minutes. It seemed the other two were nowhere to be found.

Ezra took a seat at the opposite end of the couch and Pickles flopped onto the midde, switching the TV on to a random documentary and popping open what definitely wasn't his first drink of the night. 

"So, you've been here a couple'a nights, what do you-"

"Let me just stop you for a second, Pickles," Nathan interrupted him, lightly slapping a hand over his chest and pushing him back so he could see Ezra. "What was that shit you did the other morning?"

"What?" He furrowed his eyebrows, slightly intimidated by the sudden onslaught, but staying still. "I don't-"

"Why were you up at 6 in the morning, anyway?" Nathan narrowed his eyes. "Were you fucking around in Mordhaus? Were you-"

"Nathan-" Pickles grunted slightly and shoved his arm off. "God, calm down-"

"Am I not allowed to eat? What was I supposed to do?" Ezra defended himself, frowning towards him. "I mean, you didn't give me a way to like... call someone to get me something or leave me anything in my room, so..."

"That doesn't mean you can come in there and take our- take MY shit-"

"Nathan-"

"If you wanna eat you have to wait for a Klokateer or one of US to-"

"Nathan!" Pickles smacked his hands away and, somehow, pushed the hulking man back into his seat. "Calm down, jesus! It's not that big a deal!"

"I mean, I can just starve and your manager can get up your ass about it, if that's what you want." Ezra bit out, rooting through the huge cooler that sat near the couch and pulling out something with more than 5% alcohol content. "I just figured since I'm a guest and had no other way to eat that I'm allowed to get one stupid snack without being escorted."

"Starve, then." Nathan grumbled, scowling, because he knew he were right. Charles would get up his ass about it, even if he had signed all the waivers. And the mere thought irritated him. He finally sat all the way back again with a halfhearted noise of distaste, ignoring whatever it was that Pickles said to him in the next few minutes and taking a long drink from his bottle of wine.

\-----

An hour and 4 drinks later, Ezra was comfortably nestled into the couch cushions, on the verge of sleep. Nathan hadn't said a word since their argument, and had slowed down on the drinking, but Pickles had gotten drunk enough to apparently black out and pass out on the carpet, and they were 90% sure Skwisgaar was asleep in his corner chair with his fingers still halfheartedly twitching against the guitar. 

"Hey," Nathan grunted, not looking at him.

"Hn?" Ezra mumbled, and lazily rolled his head toward him, brows furrowing once again. "What?"

"Ugh... sorry for...yelling, I guess," He muttered, trailing off near the end. When Ezra gave him a long look of confusion, he scowled and inhaled sharply. "I said I'm sorry, so stop looking at me like that."

"That doesn't sound very genuine to me." He muttered, and sipped the last of their drink- a cider that sure tasted like it had been mixed with something else- and ignored his irritated growl. "Didn't-"

"Before you start telling me whatever shit Charles said to you," Nathan said, interrupting him and leaning over to look him in the eye. "Just consider this: I don't care. He isn't here anyway."

"I have his number." 

"Okay, and?" 

Ezra opened his mouth to say more, but he waved his hand dismissively and slumped back into his seat, scowling. Tired of arguing, Ezra stood up and stumbled his way around the table, stepping over Pickles and snatching the half-empty bottle of wine off the table as he left. Nathan did nothing to stop him, and merely watched him leave. It was gonna be a long week, it looked like.


	2. Prophetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathan's dreams are still acting up as usual.

_The ground was sopping wet with- water? blood? He couldn't tell. But it was coating his feet. Where the fuck were his boots? More importantly, where the fuck was he?_

_Looking around, he briefly studied the lamps lining the wall. This was Mordhaus. But what part of it? The lamps were on, but he could barely see five feet in front of him. Hesitantly, he edged forward, whispers of some weird language he'd never heard before on the edges of his hearing. Not this shit again. This was the third night in a row._

_His feet bumped against something on the ground. It wasn't wet anymore, suddenly. A groan sounded, and he looked down at his feet, at a pale and mangled body. Brows furrowing, he hooked his foot under the form and flipped it, watching Ezra's sullied face come into view. His throat was completely torn open, blood spilling from it with each ragged breath. His chest looked like the skin had been pulled as taut as possible, almost formless. It looked fucking gross, is what it looked like._

_"Uh," He muttered, though the sound didn't follow. "Are you-"_

_A spluttering cough interrupted him, and a gush of blood spilled from the open wound, splashing loudly against the floor. It took him several full seconds of gawking before he realized the blood was back, rising past his waist, to his shoulders. "Wait-"_

_"Nathan."_

_The blood continued to rise until it slipped over his nose and up above his head, muffling anything he tried to say. It was dark for a few seconds before a pair of pale hands grabbed the sides of his face, and a breath wheezed in front of him-_

Startling himself awake, Nathan let out a slight wheeze as he fumbled to turn on the lamp near his bed. Sweat dripped off of his chin as he finally switched it on, illuminating the room in a dull orange glow. It was like he'd left it. No one was there, nothing was any different. Slowly, he wiped the sweat off his face and let out a slow breath, glancing at the clock. It was a little past 4 in the morning.

"Mnngh," He grunted, and laid back down, keeping the lights on and staring long and hard at the ceiling. This had been happening almost every night for the past week, well before they had even announced who won the raffle. He didn't know what it meant, and he didn't care to find out. Why should he care about this random fan who has to stay in his house? Why did Charles even make the stupid rule that they would be stuck there until he was nice? He'd asked himself too many questions in the past few days.

After laying there for a while, he decided it was time for a snack.

\----

By the end of the week, everyone seemed to be completely fine with involving Ezra in their shenanigans. He'd had drinks with Pickles almost every day since the second day, and Toki wouldn't be quiet about stuff he'd gotten to do with him. Even Murderface had, apparently, gotten to show off some of his weapons. However, despite everyone else seeming to be over the initial awkwardness, Nathan was as avoidant as ever. He was even starting to distance from the others, claiming he just 'didn't feel well' and yelling at anyone who pestered him about it for too long. By the time night had fallen, everyone was wrapping things up, talking while Ezra's things were being loaded onto the truck they'd offered to give him a ride home.

"I guess I'll text you guys? Or you will when you're free?" Ezra offered, pocketing his phone as he shrugged his coat on.

"Well, you know how busy we are." Pickles scratched his neck. "We got a concert comin' up in Venice for some new winery opening that we funded, so-"

"Yous shoulds come sees us!" Toki interjected, grabbing his hand briefly before letting go, remembering his boundaries. "Wes sends you tickets! Ands pay for the flights there-"

"That sounds nice, I'll let you know what my schedule's like-"

The door to the living room slammed open, silencing all of them with the noise. Nathan stood in the doorway, scowling, and stepped into the room. His eyes were dark around the edges, as if he hasn't slept in a while.

"You aren't leaving." He stated clearly, stomping over and slamming the front door shut. "Go back to your room and just- just don't move, and-"

"Nathan, what-"

"Just go." He growled, looming over Ezra and shoving Pickles out of the way. "Go to your fucking room."

In a stunned silence, Ezra furrowed his brows, then firmly gripped his bag. "I have to-"

"No!" Nathan snapped, and slammed his hand on the door when Ezra reached for it. "Stay here!"

"Nathans, you've gots to stop yellings-" Toki flinched slightly when Nathan turned to glare at him, and backed up a little. "What's wrong-"

"Just stay here." He said slowly. "Take your shit, get back in your room, and don't move."

Quietly, Ezra slowly pulled his suitcase behind him as he retreated back to his room, and slammed the door shut, the sound echoing through the hall. Nathan turned to the others and scowled, daring them to say something before they dispersed out of discomfort. Nathan huffed to himself, digging his blunt nails into his arms.

\---

Hours later, whenever everything had calmed down, Ezra crept out of his room, glancing down the hall. It was late again, a little past midnight. He'd had spent a lot of time emailing teachers and letting his parents know they were 'staying a little longer because of the weather', and after finally convincing everyone, it had been hours.

A light was on down the hall, and he could hear the murmuring of a television somewhere. Muffled guitar further down the hall, probably from Skwisgaar's room. Deciding it was fine to come out, he closed and locked the door behind him, pocketing his phone and silently moving down towards the living room. As he neared the doorway, he paused, catching sight of Nathan's back against the couch as he channel-flipped and ate what looked like his 5th bag of chips. Hesitating, he backed up and turned around to head back to their room, passing Skwisgaar's open door in the process.

" _Hej_ ," Skwisgaar's voice drifted after him down the hallway, and Ezra paused, glancing backwards at him. He leaned in his bedroom's doorway, guitar in hand (was it never not in hand?) and loosely strumming it. "Do you knows how lates it am?"

"Sorry," Ezra mumbled, struggling to unlock his door as Skwisgaar approached. "I just came out to..."

"Ohhh, I see," He stopped his strumming for a fraction of a second to flick a stray hair out of his eyes. "You were tryings to sneaks a peaks at Nathan-"

"No?"

"-Ands you thought, oh, maybes if I act _demure_ he wont's be so angries with me, and-"

"That isn't _at all_ what I was-"

"-he turneds you down, so you wants to go in your rooms and cries like a little lady what's not gotten her prince." Skwisgaar tutted slightly, and pursed his lips. "You shoulds try a little harders next time you argues with him."

"That's not-" Ezra scowled slightly, and shook his head quickly. "I didn't say anything to him. I just wanted to see who was up."

"Oh." Skwisgaar shrugged slightly. "Well, then, you should go talks to him-"

"No!"

"Whys not?"

"Because he clearly doesn't like me." Rolling their eyes, Ezra stepped in their room, fingers hovering over the button to close the door. "Why do you care, anyway? Don't you not care about anything?"

"Because its hards to get any work done with Nathan sulkings around the fortsress alls the times, ands he is bad at beings nice to fans, so," Skwisgaar paused, and halted his fingers once more, eyes crumpling at the corners. "You shoulds talk to him and tells him not to be mean to you sos we can finish the album."

"Do you really think that's gonna work?"

"He cannots say no if you are firm at him. Dat's how Charles talks him down from beings so aggressives."

"Ugh, just..." Ezra shook his head again. "I don't feel like doing this right now. I'll do it when there's a better time."

Skwisgaar shrugged and turned to go back to his own room, shutting the door wordlessly behind him.

\---

Nathan had flipped the TV off as soon as he heard voices outside, and listened to Skwisgaar and Ezra argue, brows furrowing. Did that kid ever sleep? Not that he was one to talk, but he could have sworn he'd told him to stay in his room. He stood up and swiped the empty chip bags haphazardly into the trash at the end of the couch and headed for the door, then paused when he heard Ezra talking about how he 'clearly didn't like him'.

For a split second, he almost felt bad. It's not like he _wanted_ to keep him trapped in there, when the rest of the band liked him, but he didn't want to have something like a death he'd seen over and over hanging above his head. He couldn't explain to the others, either- what kind of crazy would he sound like if he told them he'd seen Ezra die in his dreams a million times? Not to mention other dreams he'd had in the past.

Shaking his head, he waited until it was silent once more, then retreated to his room to try and sleep before more dreams slithered into his consciousness.

  


  


 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i just really want to write this bc nathan means a lot to me and its a comfort thing
> 
> pwease leave kudos if you liked it


End file.
